Batman: Duality
by Trapper Jon
Summary: A year after the horrific reign of the Joker, Gotham City is beginning to rebuild itself. The Batman is on the run, and the new DA, Dana Worthington, is working with the Mayor and Gotham PD to clean up the streets. The end of the Joker was not the end.
1. Chapter 1

General Disclaimers:

Batman, and all related characters, is property of DC Comics.

Batman created by Bob Kane

**Chapter 1**

**12 Months passed**

"HahahaHahAHAHAhahaAHHAahaaaa". The sound echoed through the dark and moldy corridors of Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane. That horrible laugh, which just twelve months earlier, had been associated with one of Gotham Cities most unstoppable criminals. Now, he is locked up, with Mayor Alex Garcia's promise that he will never get out. Gotham had begun to rebuild. A downpour of citizen's donations had rebuilt Gotham General Hospital. The city felt safer now. Many of the thugs that inhabited the dark corridors and unwatched alleys of Gotham have vanished, some believe because of fear of what the Joker will do if he escapeed, and some, because of Him.

"HAAHAHAAhaahahHAHAahaAHAha". The lights in the cells flicker as they lose electricity. The Joker's possessed laughing stops for a moment as they administer his daily electro-shock therapy. As the lights come back on fully, so does the laughter. "AhahahahaAHHAha."

The sound wakes him up. The old lumpy mattress is uncomfortable. He rolls over. For a year he's been locked up here, miserable and alone. On paper, he's dead. Opening his one good eye, Harvey Dent can barely convince himself to stay alive. The person he loves most is dead. "Rachel..." he begins to drift into his own mind. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he stands up. For a year he's been in solitary confinement. That bastard Gordon, so afraid of what would happen is the city discovered what he'd done.

"AhahahAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!!!" The laughter continued.

"Dammit, I wish they would shut him UP!" Dent yelled.

A knock on his door was his answer. "Quiet in there, or you'll be next, Two-Face!"

Two-Face. That was a name he would never get used to hearing. Harvey walked to the window on his door. He looked out and saw his taunter, Sergeant Gil McShane. He was a short, portly man, in his fifties, with salt and pepper hair, and a huge scar across his cheek. Time and time again Harvey had heard him brag about it, how it was the mark of the man they call "Bane". Harvey glared at him. McShane looked up at the face in the window and shuddered.

_That's a face I'll never get used to, _he thought to himself. "Hey, get outta my sight, ya freak!" he yelled at Harvey. To his satisfaction, the face disappeared.

Harvey sat down on his mattress and looked around his cell. The room was barren. His mattress lied on the floor. He had a toilet, and a sink. The only belongings he had were the clothes on his back, and a mirror. He picked up the rusted mirror. As usual, what he saw made him cringe. His face was getting better, or as much better as it could get without surgery. The charred bits of skin had long since peeled off, leaving his skin a deep blood red. He still couldn't grow hair on the scarred side, regardless of how he tried. And without any kind of skin grafts, he would never have a cheek, just a gaping hole. Harvey turned the mirror. His molars were visible between the tanned muscles on the side of his face. He cringed, the same as everyone else. Every morning he looked in the mirror, out of a vain hope that his face would be healing back. But it never did. He looked very much the same he did after the accident.

"Damn..." Harvey sighed as he put down the mirror. He looked out the window again. Criminals could be seen down the call. Cops pushed them to and fro, from cells, to the exercise area, to the mess hall. Harvey pulled away from the window. Many of those criminals were ones that he put away while he was the District Attorney. He heard about who they got to replace him. Dana Worthington. "She won't amount to anything," he told himself. Harvey sat back down. There was nothing to do. He looked at his watch, one of the few things he had been allowed to have.

"Just another hour until my appointment with Dr. Strange," he murmured.

Dr. Hugo Strange, Psychologist to the criminals in the asylum, was a short, older man with a long pointed nose, and small circular glasses that made his eyes look like they were made of glass. He had been appointed Harvey's doctor by Police Commissioner Gordon, and was under the utmost secrecy about the appointments with his new "John Doe". He was also a man that Harvey Dent did not trust. He was, as the Joker put it, a schemer. He would constantly be writing everything that Harvey said, did, or, probably, even thought during their sessions together. "What's the point of these sessions anyway?" Harvey asked during one particularly long session.

"Why, we're trying to cure you, m'boy," Strange answered with a gleam in his eye.

"Why bother? Remember doctor, I'm dead!" Harvey yelled as he jumped up out of his chair. "They aren't going to let me out of here! I'm here for life!" he pushed over the chair and grabbed Strange by his collar. Lifted him off of his feet, and stared into his eyes. "What is the point?"

Strange just laughed. "My dear, dear boy. If we can help you, maybe you will get out of here. Believe me; all "official" stories can be altered. Now, why don't you put me down, and let's get back to work."

Harvey shuddered as he remembered that session. It was one of the few times that he actually lost control during the therapy. Truth was, he hoped that he would be able to get out of Arkham. It was both a disgrace as well as a slap in the face to his career as District Attorney to even be there. "I was only supposed to see this place from the outside." He did a lap around his cell, then droped to his knees. He placed his arms on the ground, he started to do pushups. "Phew, gotta be ready when I do get out," he told himself during his daily ritual. When he eventually did get out, he'd be ready. Ready to face the man that he never got to "talk" to after Rachel's death. The man who made it so he couldn't protect her. Bruce Wayne. Harvey wiped the sweat off of his face with his sleeve. It was soiled brown from the hundreds of times he'd used it as a handkerchief. He'd thought about it countless times since that day, at the fund-raiser when he proposed. She practically killed him when she didn't give him an answer. And since then, he had suspected that she had feelings for Wayne. Harvey shook his head. "No, she wouldn't do that to me! Rachael loved ME!"

A tapping on the door got his attention. "Hey, quiet down in there," said the disembodied voice of McShane. "I don't want to have to explain why I had to subdue you again." McShane snickered.

"Fine. Why don't you come and shut me up, huh?" Harvey taunted. He hated that man with a burning passion. But, rather than cause a fuss, he stoped yelling.

"That's better," McShane said. Harvey could hear him walk back over to his chair, followed by the horrific screech of the metal legs on the cement floor.

Harvey looked at his watch again. He sat back down on his mattress and let his mind wander until Dr. Strange arrived, and beyond that, when he'll see Bruce Wayne again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**What I Can Be**

"Alright, everyone we have him trapped inside! Don't make a move until we get permission from the commissioner!" the officer yelled to his troops. The Gotham Police Department, Gotham's Finest, had surrounded a small, run down building on the outskirts of Gotham City. The flashing red and blue lights flickered against the windows of the house, making it look like there was a disco light flashing inside. The officer held up his megaphone and put it to his mouth. "Come out with your hands up!" was the standard speech. "If you come out now, you will not be harmed." As if to contradict him, an armored troop carrier pulled up and spilled out a dozen SWAT Troopers.

He watched all of this from the second story master bedroom. The house had long since been abandoned, like many of the buildings on this side of the city. The crime-lords owned this part of town, and everyone knew it. He watched as the SWAT team captain approached the officer who had been trying to do negotiations. A smile crossed his face, and Batman moved away from the window. Life had gotten difficult for him ever since his decision to take the blame for Harvey Dent's killings. There were still a few people he could trust, namely Gordon, but with the entire police force out to get him, it had become harder than ever to meet with him and get valuable information. That was one of the problems tonight. A struggling Maroni crime family had taken to robbing banks in broad daylight, knowing full well that the Batman would not be able to interfere. And until recently, it had worked. Batman had finally been able to trace them back to this neighborhood, only to be found by a patrol car. He had run, and had become trapped inside the building.

"Come out and you will not be harmed!" the officer repeated. "We know you're in there!"

Batman moved against the back wall. In the back yard, if you could even call it that anymore, a smaller group of officers gathered. One of them pulled a roll of explosive prima-cord out of a duffel bag. He attached it to the doorway, and covered the center of the door in C-4. Batman watched as the troops prepared to enter the house. The troops were concentrating so hard on preparing to blast open the door; they didn't notice the window above open.

"Amateurs," Batman said. Reaching onto his belt, he pulled a small disc, no bigger than his palm. He pressed a button on top, and tossed it down to the troopers. One of them looked over at the disc that landed in the dirt.

"Oh crap! Grenade!" he yelled to his team-mates. He hit the dirt. His team-mates turned as the disc exploded, setting out a huge flash of light, and a puff of black smoke. Disoriented, the troopers stumble back toward to door.

"Damn it! Blast the door! Blast the door!" their squad leader shrieked as the fuzziness wore off. The door exploded, but not in the direction that they had expected. It blew outwards, striking two of the troopers as it flew. They fell to the ground. In the doorway, the ghostly silhouette of the Batman stood. He moved towards them, and Gotham's finest shriveled back in fear. He walked past them. One of the guards, the one who first noticed the flash grenade, pulled up his assault rifle. The Batman stopped. The trooper froze. Batman turned toward the trooper and stomped over to him. He reached down and grabbed the trooper's gun. He took it apart, and tossed the empty clip onto his chest.

"What the hell are you all doing? Get him!" the captain shouted. His troopers jumped to their feet, weapons drawn. They leveled their guns at the Batman, the cop killer, the man who had taken five lives. The Batman turned to face them. In his hand, a pair of brass knuckles appeared, extending from his arms to his hands. He rushed them. Two of the troopers got knocked out immediately, their noses bleeding from the elbows to their faces. The captain swung his rifle like a club, striking the Batman across the side of the head, knocking him to his knees. Like his namesake, Batman flew up off of the ground, a cable attached to his belt. He landed on the roof. The troopers in the backyard open fire on him. He ducked behind the chimney, and out of view of the troopers in the front of the house. Reaching onto his belt, Batman pulled out a case of his throwing stars, or Batarangs, as he had come to call them. He looked out from behind the chimney. Three of the troopers remained. He pulled out three Batarangs, and threw them, one by one.

"What the hell?" one of the troopers exclaimed as the Batarang sliced through his weapons shoulder strap. The weapon's barrel dropped down. Looking around, he saw the same thing happen to his two other squad-mates. As they hurried to re-aim their weapons, they heard a rumbling on the rooftop.

After hooking a pulley cable to the rafters on exposed on the roof, Batman ran to the edge and jumped off. As he fell to the ground, the cable ran out of slack, pulling him back toward the house. The terrified trooper who saw him didn't have a chance to react as he was lifted off of his feet by the weight of the Batman. The two flew back towards the house. The other two troopers looked in enough time to be grabbed up as well. All four of them went through the busted window, through a half crumbled wall, and burst into the dilapidated living room. At the height of the swing, Batman let go of the troopers, sending them flying through the front window. They flew for four or five feet before hitting the cement, rolling, and stopping in front of the officer who had been trying to do negotiations.

He looked down at the troopers, who were dazed and in agony. "Damn."

Batman went flying backwards through the house. As he started to swing back up toward the roof he pushed off of the wall. The force of his push launched him higher, as well as crumbled that section of wall. As he reached the height of his arc, he released the cable, and spread his cape. Electricity flowed from his fingertips to the memory fabric, and they stiffened into wings. He glided over the house, and over the gaping mouths and wide eyes of the Gotham Police Department, Gotham's finest. A massive bat-shaped shadow glided across the ground until he disappeared into the city. As he landed, Batman mounted his hidden Bat-Pod, and vanished into the city.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**These Times Are Changing**

"Grace! Will you get in here please? How many times do I have to ask you?

Grace Gold brushed her lemon blonde hair from her eyes. She was down on all fours, trying desperately to pick up all of the books that had slipped from her hands. Her bright, sky blue eyes darted back and forth as she searched for the rest of the books. Her knees were scuffed up, and she was pretty sure that she tore her nylons. She grabbed the last of the books and set it on the desk next to her. She stood up, straightened out her indigo blue dress. There were still dust stains visible on it, but she held her head high, and walked into the next room.

"Grace! Will you get- oh, you're here," the new District Attorney said as Grace entered the room.

"Yes, Miss Worthington. What can I do for you?" Grace asked as properly as she could muster.

Dana Worthington, the new District Attorney, was a fairly plain looking woman, with dull brown hair, and grey eyes that seemed, to Grace, to be able to see through walls. She was a small woman, but was out of shape, which showed through her tighter than standard pant suit. Her hair was frazzled, and she wore too much make-up. Grace looked her over. She tries too hard, she thought to herself. Worthington reached behind her desk and pulled out a large box, overflowing with papers.

"Yes, Grace, I found these things as I was going over some of Mr. Dent's old files. Would you mind getting rid of them for me? That man was a total slob when it came to his paperwork, rest his soul."

Grace flinched. Harvey Dent had done more for this city in the brief amount of time he had been in office than this woman would do in her entire term. She was only in it for the glory, not for the city. As much as Harvey Dent had been the cities White Knight, she may as well have been the stable boy who tried to care for the horse that the White Knight rode. Grace walked up to the table, and picked up the box. Dust flew off of the box and into the air, as well as smudged against her dress. Grace tried not to show her disdain for the woman as she walked out of the room.

"Oh, and Grace, Will you please bring me a cup of coffee on your way back?"

* * *

The huge metal door to the garbage dump room creaked as grace opened it. Reaching blindly against the wall, she flipped the switch and the lights flickered on. She looked at the dumpsters sitting against the back wall. Each was labeled for what types of trash they held. Grace put the box down on one of the tables, then pulled a beat up office chair over. She sat down, and began to pull out the last lingering bits of Harvey Dents legacy. She began to sort the papers into piles. Worthington was being a little too quick with getting rid of these papers Some of them could be used to keep a few of Dent's criminals behind bars. Grace sighed. Harvey Dent.

She remembered the first time she saw him. She had been working as the secretary to the late District Attorney Carl Finch, who had, as rumor had it, been murdered because of what he connected with the destruction of the Narrows two years ago. It was after his death that the city had elected Harvey Dent to office. She still remembered the first day that he strolled in through the double doors of the building, wearing that deep blue suit, with his blood red tie. He had a look about him, like he was ready to take on the world. And he had, quite successfully for a while. But he never really made it that far.

"Harvey, this city really needs you right now. It's not in good hands." Grace picked up a pile of unnecessary papers, shredded them, and put them into the dumpster. Harvey's death was such a waste, killed by the Joker while those people on the ferries decided not to blow each other up. Grace thought back about Harvey, how he held himself, his always perfectly groomed hair, his firm physic, and his generally positive attitude. She had become him secretary, and had quickly grown to love him. But with his announcement that he was dating Rachael Dawes, his assistant D.A., her hopes had been dashed. A tear ran down Grace's face as she thought about how he must have felt when he heard that she died. She thought about how she felt when she got the news of his death, how she had stayed up all night weeping into her pillow, how should could barely convince herself to get up in the morning.

She threw a few more unnecessary papers into the shredder. The bin was filling up quickly, so she pulled the trash bin out from under it and tossed the scraps into the dumpster. She walked back to the desk and put the remaining papers into the basket, then left the room, flicking off the light on her way out.

* * *

A black Lamborghini pulled up to the main building of Wayne Enterprises. Sitting on a bench near the parking lot was Lucius Fox. He was wearing a deep grey suit, and had on his traditional bow tie. He looked up from the newspaper he was holding, whose headline read "A Year After The Joker: Life Without Harvey Dent and Batman." Lucius folded up the paper, stuck it under his arm, and walked toward the Lamborghini, whose driver had just exited the vehicle.

"A little early for you today, isn't it Lucius?" Bruce Wayne asked his old friend. A smile came across his face.

Lucius Fox just smiled. "It's always too early, Mr. Wayne. But I'm here on an important matter."

Bruce Wayne started toward the door to the office building. "Let me guess, the environmentalists again?" He shook his head. Over the past three months, everything that Wayne Enterprises had been doing was under investigation by environmentalists. It was getting to be a huge pain in the ass.

Lucius nodded. "That's right. They think that the new power plant on the outskirts of the city is going to start to kill off the forest. I don't know how they get these ideas, but that's what they think."

"Has anyone bothered to tell them that it's a solar power plant?" Bruce asked with confusion in his voice.

Lucius nodded his head. "Probably, but they don't seem to care. Apparently, they're mostly mad about the trees that had to be cleared to make room for it." Lucius swiped his key-card on the management access door as they approached.

Bruce opened the door, and waited for Lucius to enter. "So apparently, our planting two new trees in Gotham State Park for every one that we cleared at the site don't count?" Up ahead are a set of stairs leading to the executive offices. "But, that's not why you met me out front, is it?"

"Not entirely, Mr. Wayne."

"What is it then, Lucius?"

Lucius sighed. "One of them in here to see you, Mr. Wayne." They reached Bruce's office. "She made an appointment last week, after we had started to cut down the first of the trees. I'd be careful in there. She doesn't seem to think the way most people do."

"Well, Lucius, if you recall, neither do I." Bruce winked, and stepped into his office.

* * *

The woman was sitting down on the chair in front of Bruce's desk, her feet up on his desk. Bruce looked her over as he entered the office. She looked to be in her early thirties, fit, with emerald green eyes, and fiery red hair that was cut to her shoulders. She looked over at Bruce as he entered the room. There was something about her eyes that made a chill run down his spine. She stood up, and extended her hand.

"Mr. Wayne, it's a pleasure. My name is Pamela Isley. I'm a Professor of Botanical Sciences at Gotham State University." She shook Bruce's hand. "I'm here regarding the construction of the new power plant that is being constructed on the outskirts of town."

"Yes, I know," Bruce told her. "Please, have a seat." He walked behind his desk and sat in his executive chair. "What can I do for you exactly, Miss Isley?"

Pamela sat back down in her chair. She crossed her legs, and leaned forward. She held up a manila folder that she pulled from her forest green purse. "Mr. Wayne, this is a list of charges that I am prepared to file against you and your company regarding the destruction of precious forested areas to build you new power plant. The forest that you leveled to make room for the plant was done without voter approval, and without the thought for the safety and well begin for any animal's that lived in the area. Furthermore." Bruce cut her off.

"Miss Isley, all actions taken by my company have only the best interests of the people of this city in mind. The land that we used was one that my company bought legally, and therefore was ours to use as we saw fit. The area was not a protected area, and as for the animals, the only ones living there were squirrels, and they can live anywhere." Bruce leaned back in his chair. "I'm sorry Miss Isley, but we don't need voter approval to work our own land."

Pamela was beginning to look agitated. The look in her eye became more extreme. Bruce was beginning to feel uncomfortable. "Mr. Wayne, you cannot level a forest just so that your company will make more money."

"Miss Isley, I'm afraid you're not at liberty to tell me what my company can and cannot do. You are more than welcome to file your charges, but I assure you that everything that this company has done, we have done so legally, in the best interests of the city, and in the environment."

"Do not lie to me, Mr. Wayne. You don't give a damn about the environment!"

Bruce stood up. A scowl crossed his face. He glared down at Pamela Isley. "Miss Isley," he bellowed, "If you had bothered to look into this situation, you'd see that we planted TWO trees in Gotham State Park for every ONE that we cut down for this new SOLAR power plant! Now, this city needs power, and we're going to give it to them, in the greenest way possible!"

Pamela scowled back at Bruce as he sat back down into his executive chair. "You don't' understand anything, Mr. Wayne. You're just too obsessed with your money, and your power. Well, so be it. I WILL file my charges. And I WILL stop that power plant from being opened. The world will know of the atrocities that you and your company have committed here."

Bruce leaned forward. "Are you threatening me, Miss Isley? I don't think that would be in the best interests of your lawsuit. Juries don't take that well." He leaned back again and began to toy with his tie. "I wouldn't worry. The plant will help out our economy, and will be completely safe for the environment. That's why we chose a solar power plant. Would you rather it be a nuclear power plant?" Pamela's jaw dropped. "I didn't think so. I'm sorry that you feel this way, but there are some things that this city needs, and reliable power is one of them. Now, my company took every precaution to prevent serious devastation to the environment. Yes, some trees had to be cut down, but that was a necessary sacrifice. That's something that you'll have to learn to understand."

Pamela put her hands on Bruce's desk, and leaned forward. "I'll never understand it, you jackass." She glared at him.

Bruce stood up. "In that case, we're through here. Goodbye, Miss Isley."

"I'm not leaving until I get what I want."

"Very well. I can always have you thrown out."

Pamela glared, her emerald eyes flashing in rage as she looked upon Bruce Wayne's calm demeanor. The rage inside her built up, until she felt she had to lash out. Bruce watched calmly as she fought her inner demons. Finally, common sense won out. "Very well, Mr. Wayne. I'll leave. Expect to hear from my attorney. I'll see you in court." With that, she stormed out, slamming the door as she left. The glass window on the top of the door shattered, leaving shards of glass on the carpet. Lucius watched as Pamela Isley, Professor of Botanical Sciences rushed down the stairs, and then looked through where the glass used to be.

"That went well."

Bruce looked down at the glass on the carpet. It crunched under his feet like the leaves that cover the streets in the fall. He looked out the door. "You owe me a new window pane!" he called after Miss Isley.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**Home Again**

Wayne Manor loomed in the distance. In the light of the setting sun, Alfred Pennyworth thought it looked a lot more foreboding than it was, much like the Bates House. The mansion had been rebuilt only a few months earlier, and even still, there was much work to be done. Rooms had to be filled with furniture, wallpapered, painted, and lived in. However, the construction on the south-east corner foundation was coming along very well. Alfred pulled the car up to the drive, and parked. He reached over to the seat next to him and picked up the paper bag filled with groceries. He opened the door, and walked into the mansion.

The smell of sawdust filled the air, filling Alfred's nostrils. He walked into the newly redone kitchen and placed the bag onto the tile counter. The bag moved around a few of the tiles. The clanked together. Alfred looked down and sighed. The mansion was a functional building, but there was a lot left to do to get it back to normal. He took the groceries out of the bag, and began to put them away. He was just putting the eggs into the refrigerator when he heard a grinding sound come from the wall. Startled, he looked into the next room, only to see Bruce Wayne come barreling out of the wall. Smoke filled the room, setting off the fire alarms than hung from the ceiling. Alfred quickly ran over to the window and opened it, letting the breeze empty the room of smoke. After the smoke cleared, he turned to Bruce with a scowl on his face.

"Having a bit of trouble, are we Master Bruce?"

Bruce Wayne just smiled at his old friend. "Just a little."

Alfred couldn't hold his scowl anymore, and he burst out laughing. "Maybe, Sir, you should consider having an outside contractor build the extra entrances into the caves." He walked over and turned off the fire alarms. The room was mostly devoid of smoke now, save for a lingering smell.

"Yeah, and maybe I'll get my suit dry-cleaned while we're at it," Bruce laughed. He takes a towel and wipes the dust off of his face and hair. "We have done a whole lot down there, though. It's been a pain adding in those extra entrances, but it'll be worth it," he said as he folded the towel. Alfred took it and draped it over his arm, leaving a light brown streak on his otherwise spotless black suit.

"I certainly hope that they will come in handy. I'd hate for you to burn the mansion down again," Alfred said as he turned back toward the main hall. Bruce ran after him.

"Hey, that wasn't my fault!"

* * *

Apartment 890, on the 8th floor of the Gotham's Eden Apartment Complex, was the last door on the right, at the end of the hall. The forest green paint on the door had begun to peel years before. A key twisted in the lock, and the door opened, flooding the apartment with pale light. Pamela Isley walked into her apartment, and put her keys down on the small table near the door. Her apartment was a studio, very small, and was filled with plants of different varieties. Some were in bloom, showing off their vibrant colors, while others seemed dormant, their buds not yet opened. The room was humid and hot, with lamps casting light on all of the plants. Pamela walked to the closest group of plants, and picked up a watering can.

"Hello my babies," she cooed to them as she poured water into their soil. "I've had a rough day, but I know I can always count on you to help make it all better for me."

The plants sat there.

"I know, it wasn't very nice of Bruce Wayne to treat me like that, was it? He'll have to learn a lesson, won't he?"

The plants didn't move.

"So, I think I'll be visiting Mr. Wayne again soon."

With that, she turned around and watered the rest of the plants in silence, though she knew that they were talking back to her.

* * *

The door to the cell creaked slightly as it was opened. In the doorway stood Hugo Strange, with a guard at his side. "Hello Harvey. Are you ready for our session?"

Harvey stood up from the floor where he had been doing crunches. His jumpsuit was sweaty, and smelled. Hugo waved his hand in front of his face. Harvey grinned. "A little too smelly for you, Doc?" he asked mockingly. Hugo motioned to the guard, who placed a folding chair down on the cold cement floor. Hugo unfolded it, and sat down. "Alright then, Doctor Strange. I guess I am ready for this," Harvey said as he sat down on his bed. "What do you want to talk about today, huh?"

Hugo Strange looked at his notebook. "Well, Harvey, we're still trying to figure out why you did what you did. Most men don't go kill people, even if they had been harmed by those exact people. Now, from a mainly psychological standpoint, you seem to be perfectly harmless in our sessions, with a few exceptions. Now tell me Harvey, what was your home life like, as a boy I mean.?"

Harvey glared at Strange. His eyes seemed to piece through Strange as if he were transparent. Strange shivered for the first time, seeing that horrible scarred face look through him. He turned away. "Come on now, Doctor. Are you really going to try and blame my parents for my actions? I'll tell you why I did it. Because otherwise, no one would have done a damn thing about it. I had to take the law into my own hands," Harvey said. Strange just sat there with his pad, writing as Harvey talked.

"I understand your reasons Harvey, but I'm having a hard time understanding your reasoning. You were the District Attorney at the time of the Joker killings, and were known as Gotham City's White Knight. Wouldn't the responsibility of that post be put ahead of personal motives? I find all of this quite puzzling, to say the least. You were a man of upstanding character, m'boy, and you threw that all away. Why?" Harvey continued to stare. His glare made Strange shiver. The guard moved toward Harvey, but was stopped by Strange's upheld hand. "No need, to answer just yet. I just wanted to broach the subject with you for now. We'll get to the bottom of this at some point." Strange reached into his pocket. "I do, however, have something to show you. I was going through some of your personal effects, and I found this," he said as he held up his hand. Harvey's eye went wide was he saw it, his old token up unending luck, his father's two headed coin. It was as he remembered it from the year before, clean on one side, and a charred and destroyed reminder on the other.

"My Dad's old lucky coin," Harvey said as he stared at it. He hadn't seen it since being brought to Arkham, and now a flood of emotions filled his soul to the brim. He remembered the last time he saw Rachel, smiling at him as she learned that the coin was two headed, smiling as she recited his favorite saying.

"You make your own luck," she had said to him as the van carried him away towards the county jail. That was the night she had died, and the night he had become...

Harvey shook the thought from his head. He put his hand out. "May I please see it?"

Hugo Strange smiles. He hold out the coin. "Of course."

Harvey reached over and took it in his hand. It felt heavy in his hand. Facing him was the bright, clean side. He turned it over and looked up at Strange. "So, you want to know why I did it, do you?" Strange nodded. Harvey turned the coin around in his hand. "I wanted revenge, simple as that."

"Harvey, we've already been over this. I know you wanted to get revenge, m'boy. Now, what was your true motive?"

Harvey looked from the guard, to strange. "Alright doc, you want to know my real motive? You think that everything must be deeper than it seems? Alright, I'll tell you," he said as he held out his hand. The coin sat on his thumb. "It's so easy, Doctor Strange. It's black and white." With this he flipped the coin into the air. Hugo Strange watched as it fell through the air, wondering what this all meant. The coin landed in his palm, scarred face up. Harvey looked up at Strange. "Black."

"What?" Strange said.

Before Strange or the guard can react, Harvey kicked the legs out from Hugo Strange's chair, sending him falling to the floor. With one quick rush, he shoves his shoulder into the guard's shoulder, and rammed his head into the wall. Blood squirted out onto the wall, following the guard's head as he fell limp to the floor. Hugo Strange looked up at the figure of Harvey Dent, looming over him like the ancient Colossus. Hugo gasped. This was no longer Harvey Dent. The look of humanity that had been in his eyes during all of their sessions was gone, replaced by an evil malice. Dent looked down at Strange.

"Everyone gets one flip, Doctor. You've had yours. Now, it's time we dealt out your punishment," Harvey told him with a smirk. He bent down to the guard and unhooked his gun belt, taking it for himself. The baton intrigued him as well. He picked it up. "Well, Doctor Strange. I think I'm ready to be discharged, what do you think?" Harvey pressed the tip of the baton into Strange's throat. "Well, what do you think? Am I ready?" Strange just stared speechless into Harvey's eyes. "Of course you do." With that, he struck Strange over the head with the baton, sending him falling face-first into the ground. Harvey cracked him over the head one more time, to be sure he was unconscious. "Thank you doctor. I think I'll be going now," he said as he reached into the guards pockets. He took out the cell keys, and unlocked the door.

Outside the cell it was dead quiet. All of the other prisoners stared at him silently, with a quiet awe and respect. He was Harvey Dent, the White Knight of Gotham, the same man who had put countless numbers of them into the dark loneliness of Arkham. As he walked toward the exit, he heard many people whisper his name. As he was about to reach the door at the end of the hall, a hand grabbed onto his sleeve. Harvey turned with a jolt. Hanging on to his arm, was the Joker.

"Well, Hiya Harvey. Whatcha doing? Are you getting out now? I don't suppose you'd like to let an old buddy out, would you?"

Harvey stared down at the Joker. The Joker licked his lips, and brushed a strand of hair away from his eyes with his middle finger. Their eyes locked, and in that instant, Harvey felt the same anger he had felt in the hospital room when he had first met this lunatic. He grabbed the Joker's hand, and twisted it fully around. The sound of the tendons snapping and bones cracking echoed through the halls.

"No," Harvey said.

"HahahaAHHAhaHA!" the Joker laughed.

Harvey threw down the Joker's destroyed hand, and walked off toward the doorway. From his cell, the Joker waved his newly broken hand. The bits of bone crack and scratch against each other as his hand flaps limply up and down. "Bye Harvey," the Joker said with a grin.

With no warning that anything was wrong, no alarms sounded as Harvey Dent reached one of the Asylums emergency exits with no other resistence. He opened the door and walked into the light, and into freedom.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**Visitation Rights**

Salvatore Maroni wheeled himself into the dimly lit room of his Gotham City mansion. Ever since the Joker Incident, he had been keeping a low profile, thanks in part to being confined to a wheelchair. The wheels squeaked as he came up to the counter. He reached up and grabbed a can of spray on oil. _Damn Dent. I'm glad he's dead, _he thought to himself as he sprayed the oil onto the wheelchair's axils. He had been living quietly for the past year. His empire was destroyed, most of his most trusted men killed by either the Joker, or Two-Face. He'd never forget the sight of his drivers brains splattering against the windshield, or the feel of the car flying through the air. He shuddered at the thought. All he wanted to do was live out the rest of his life. Satisfied that his chair would no longer drive him crazy with its constant squeaking, Maroni wheeled himself out to the patio. It was a warm day, rare for this time of year, April, and he wanted to get some sun while it lasted.

The glass door to the patio opened as Maroni wheeled himself out. Under a patio umbrella was a cooler. He wheeled himself over and pulled out an ice cold beer. It was cool under the umbrella. Maroni looked out over the swimming pool, and took a sip of his beer. The bubbles stung his throat. "Ah.... This is the life. No troubles, no worries, no nothing."

"I wouldn't say that."

Maroni spun around in his chair. He felt himself falling backwards. Before he even knew what had happened, he found himself surrounded by water. Unable to kick, and taken by surprise, he struggled to get above the surface. Suddenly, he felt something around his neck, something cold. It pulled on his neck, lifting him up above the water. Maroni coughed, and began to claw at his neck. The cold thing was cutting off his air. He looked up and saw a figure standing by the pool. In it's hands was the pool hook, a safety device to pull drowning swimmers out of the water. The figure was wearing a suit. And half of his face was- the figure vanished as Maroni was pushed back underwater by the hook. He struggled more, pulling on the pole that held him under, trying desperately to get above the water. Finally, he was pulled back up, and dragged to the side of the pool, coughing. Turning toward the side, he came face to face with Harvey Dent.

"Hello Maroni. How are things?" Dent asked as he stared into Maroni's eyes, his face barely inches away. "How is your wife?"

"She left me, if you really want to know. Couldn't stand to be with a man... the way I am now," he said between gasps of air. He reached his arms out to the side of the deck, only to watch it move away as Harvey pushed him further into the pool.

"Oh, well that's just to bad. How does it feel to lose someone you love?" The water surrounded Maroni again. He struggled, but each flail of his arms pushed more vital air out of his lungs. The bubbles that escaped his mouth tickled his face. Harvey stood on the pool deck until the bubbles began to slow down, then pulled Maroni above the water again, and to the side of the pool. Maroni scrambled to get a grip on the side. Harvey bent down, grabbed him by the collar, and lifted him out of the water. He pushed him down onto the wet cement. Maroni gagged as the hook was removed from around his neck. He heard the crisp clang as it was thrown aside, then Harvey Dent was upon him again. He held his hand up as a feeble way of trying to ward off his attacker, but it didn't help at all. He felt the strong arms of Harvey Dent lift him up again. His head snapped back as he was tossed into a chair. "I need you to listen now. Do I have your attention, Mr. Maroni?"

Maroni nodded.

"Good," Harvey said as he bent down next to him, his face staring directly into Maroni's. With a smile, he punched Maroni square in the side of the head.

"OW!! What the hell was that for?!" Maroni screamed. His head was beginning to throb already.

"To make sure you know I'm not screwing around. Now, lets talk shall we?"

"What the hell do you want, Dent?" Maroni pulled himself up into the chair with his arms. He was starting to feel a chill as his soaking wet clothes began to cool off. He shivered a little. Harvey reached over and grabbed a towel off of the table and gave it to him. "Thanks. Now, what do you want?"

"A very simple thing, really. I want Bruce Wayne. I've gotten everyone else, but not him. He's the last one who had ties to Rachel, who tried to take her from me. She could be alive today if not for him. I want him dead." Harvey pulled his coin out of his pocket. Maroni began to try and back away. Harvey pulled him forward by the collar. "Don't worry Maroni, you've had yours. Everyone gets one flip. Bruce needs his."

"What do you want from me then?"

"Your loyalty. I want everything that you have access to: cars, clothes, food, weapons, safe houses, money, people, whatever. I want it all. Taking out someone like Bruce Wayne won't be easy, and I want your assurance that I'll be able to get it done. You have that ability. I spent years trying to get you behind bars. I always failed." Harvey drew a gun from his jacket, "But I won't fail this time."

Maroni looked at the gun pointed in his face. He thought of the car accident that left him a cripple, and of the loss of his empire.

"I don't have all day. I'll kill you anyway Maroni. What'll it be?"

Maroni looked up. He looked directly into the scarred face of Harvey Dent, former district attorney of Gotham City. "What size suit do you wear?"

- - - - - - - -

Bruce Wayne woke up in a cold sweat. He threw back the blankets, grabbed a robe, and hurried out of the newly redone master bedroom.

"Don't tell me it's that same nightmare again, Master Bruce", Alfred said as he entered the Batcave. The new cement floor was much easier on his ankles than the old dirt and stone covered ground had been before. Bruce was against the wall, cleaning grease off of his grappling hook. He looked up at Alfred as he approached, a tray of cold drinks in his hands.

"Sometimes I think I'll never get over it, Alfred. I can barely stand to sleep at night anymore."

"Yes, but it's our duty to persevere young Master. Your parents wouldn't want you to be dwelling in the past."

"True, but letting go isn't something I can do just yet," he said as he glanced over at the cabinet that housed his costume. "When I hang that up for good, I'll be ready to."

- - - - - - - -

Lucius Fox stared up at the mansion ahead of him, slightly eery in the early morning light. The sun was behind it, casting long shadows across the lawn, easily the size of a football field. A halo seemed to shine around the mansion as the sun rose above the roof. Lucius' car drove up the hill leading to the front doorway. He parked his car, reached into the back seat where he had placed a stack of papers, and headed up to the door.

"Hello Mr. Fox," Alfred said from the door. "Master Wayne is expecting you."

"Thank you Alfred. Where is he?"

"He's in the study right now. I'll take you to him."

"I appreciate that."

The two of them enter the house, and make their way into the study where Bruce Wayne awaits. As they enter the room, Bruce finished pulling on a tee-shirt. He walked up to Lucius and shook his hand.

"Hello Lucius. Welcome", Bruce said as he led him to a large oak table.

"Thank you, Mr. Wayne. I brought what you asked for", Lucius replied as he motioned to the stack of papers in his hand. He placed them onto the table and slid them across Bruce, who reached across and took them. He leafed through them, and raised and eyebrow.

"It's different than I remember. It looks sleeker."

Lucius stood up and walked around to look over Bruce's shoulder. "I took the liberty of redesigning it to match your persona more. If you look at the front angle on these blueprints, you'll see that it looks more like the suit you use when you... spelunk."

Bruce smiled. "This will suit me just fine. How long until you can get it completed?"

"Oh, I'd say I can have it for you in, oh... two weeks? One if you want to cover the expenses." Bruce handed the papers back. He folded his hands over his stomach and leaned back in his seat. He nodded silently. Lucius smiled. "It'll be done in a week then." Lucius took the papers and, putting them under his arm, nodded to Alfred as he left the mansion.

"What was he showing you, Master Bruce?" Alfred after he closed the door behind Lucius Fox.

Bruce smiled to himself, "The Batmobile."


End file.
